Even
by Corbenik
Summary: I think there's a challenge by P.L.Wynter about what would have happened if Dean was the one who got possesed by Ellicot. I still have to figure out how challenges work. This story isn't set at the asylum, but the idea is the same.
1. Chapter 1

Ok. This is my first fiction, I hope you enjoy it, I sure enjoyed writing it. If you like it then maybe I just found myself a hobby.

I just made my account, and didn't know you had to wait three days to be able to post. So, while I waited, I finished the story, so you wont have to wait for me to update.

A little preliminar notes. English isn't my first language, so I'm sure there are many spelling mistakes or words I used the wrong way thinking they meant something else, so if anyone finds any, please let me know to fix it.

**Disclaimer:** Almost forgot. I don't own the characters in the story or any situation related to the TV show Supernatural.

Well, on to the story.

* * *

Sam felt a chill run down his spine as he caught sight of the old and somber house in the distance. He didn't think it was caused by the knowledge of what had happened in said house, but he wasn't sure he had sensed anything supernatural about the house either. It was probably just his nerves messing with him. He sighed and shook his head lightly, trying to get rid of the feeling that they should just turn around and leave the house alone. 

Dean was distracted from his own thoughts by his brother's sigh and gave him an amused look.

"Nervous?" Asked Dean, obviously trying to keep himself from smiling. Though he knew this job was serious business, he was compelled by his big brother genes to tease his little brother about being afraid of a haunted house.

"Yeah, a little." Sam said, turning to look at his brother with such a serious face that Dean's forming smirk disappeared. Sam turned his attention back to the house, which was only a couple hundred feet away now, and said nothing more.

Dean gave his brother a confused look, before realizing what he meant. It had been only two months since the incident at the Roosevelt Asylum, Sam was obviously scared that the same thing would happen again. And given the history of the house, he couldn't deny that he had been thinking the same thing.

The sun was setting already by the time they parked in front of the house, the oranges and pinks lighting the sky made a beautiful scenery, rudely contrasted by the decaying building standing over them.

Dean walked around the car to the open trunk and started getting the stuff they would need. Two shotguns loaded with rock salt, lighter fluid and a bottle of salt. He patted the front pocket of his jacket to make sure he had his Zippo and, with a content nod, closed the trunk and turned to his brother to hand him one of the shotguns.

Sam stood still, his back to Dean, facing the house. It wasn't until then that Dean took a good look at the place. The two-story house looked pretty damaged, it seemed like no one had been there for a while. The boards covering the outer walls must have been good quality because very few were missing, but almost all of them had the white paint peeled off. The saddle back roof had many tiles missing, and a particularly damaged spot was covered in tables to protect the interior from the weather. To accentuate the eerie appearance of the house, the porch was crossed with yellow police line tape.

Dean walked behind his brother and put a hand on his shoulder, making him jump. Sam turned to look at his brother expecting another comment on his faltering nerves, but Dean simply handed him a shotgun. Sam started walking towards the house, but stopped at the sound of his brother speaking.

"Don't worry so much, Sammy" Sam turned to look at his brother again. "We'll stick together this time" Dean said, trying to ease his brother's worries a little. Sam nodded. "Besides, if you so much as look at me funny, I'll put your lights out in a heartbeat." Dean grinned.

"Thanks, man" Sam fake smiled. "You really know how to make me feel better."

"Don't mention it. What are big brothers for?" Dean said, and Sam couldn't help a little laugh. Not two weeks ago, Dean would leave the room if Sam tried to talk about what had happened at the asylum, but now he could joke about it, and Sam felt a little of the guilt he'd been carrying around the last couple of months melt away. The mood was actually a little lighter.

Passing under the yellow tape, Dean approached the door and kicked it open. Both he and Sam entered the house.

* * *

Author's Note: I want to thank H.T.Marie for pointing out the 'tables' thing. My vocabulary is limited so I appreciate the help : ) 


	2. Chapter 2

The boys had learned of the haunted house while waiting to get some news of their father. When the usual message with coordinates never came, Sam decided to search the surrounding area news papers to see if he could find anything unusual. They had taken care of a job near New Orleans concerning a witch and voodoo murders. It had been fairly easy since they just had to do some research to find out who it was and, when they had some solid evidence connecting her to the dead people, they made an anonymous call to the local police and let them do their job. The woman was arrested a couple days later and they had been waiting in a motel room for almost a week before Sam came across an interesting article in the Leesville local news paper.

Apparently, a man and his wife had just bought an old house a few miles up from the town, and the very same day of the moving, the man had gone insane and killed his wife, then he killed himself. The man who sold them the house had told the police he had found Mr. Chadwick's body next to his wife's the next day, when he had gone to see how they liked the house. It was obvious Chadwick had killed his wife because she had been stabbed and he was found next to her holding a kitchen knife, but no one could tell why he would do such a thing. They were a young couple, just married, and seemed to be deeply in love.

Sam called his brother to come and see the article he had been reading and Dean thought it might be worth looking into. A two hour drive later they were in the small town and, seeing it was still early, they parked outside an inviting looking restaurant hoping for a nice lunch, which they both looked forward to, motel food wasn't the best.

Their waitress was a kind woman, probably in her sixties, Sam looked across the table at Dean, who had just said he wished the waitress was hot. Sam wiggled his eyebrows and smiled broadly in a mocking way. Dean kicked him under the table and looked up at the woman waiting to take their order. They ordered two house specials and when the woman returned a few minutes later, Dean asked her about the matter that seemed to be in everyones mouth.

"So, can you tell us what's going on?" Dean tried to sound oblivious "Everyone seems excited about something, talking in whispers and all."

"Oh, excited isn't the word I'd use, honey" The woman answered in a thick southern accent. "There was a murder a few miles from town, at the old Baker house, it just stirred the rumors that the place is haunted. That's what everyone is talking about"

"Why do people think it's haunted?" asked Sam, and the woman turned to look at him like she had forgotten he was there.

"Because this is not the first time something like this has happened" Said the woman, and this got the brothers attention. "There's been three families who have lived in the house since it was built, and all of them died in it. The legend says that old man Baker haunts the house, and anyone who lives in it goes insane." The woman took a pensive pause before continuing. "I didn't really believe in ghost stories, but I met that couple when they got to town, they stopped by for dinner after the movers had unloaded all of their belongings at the house, they seemed happy to me, excited." The woman ended her story with a sad sigh. "Well, I've got tables to tend to, boys. Enjoy your meal and don't forget the tip." She said trying to smile, but failing to do so, she turned and walked to a table across the place where a man was waving at her.

"So" Dean started. "This sounds like our kind of gig." Sam looked up at him and nodded.

"It could be just a coincidence, but I doubt it. We should check the history of the house, if Baker is haunting the place, it should be easy to just find and burn his bones" Dean looked up from his plate and agreed with a muffled answer, given his mouth was full. Sam continued. "We should also go and check the house, make sure there really is something supernatural going on in it. We could go tomorrow night" After receiving another grunt for an answer, Sam turned to his own plate and started eating. They both finished their meals in silence, thanked the waitress and, after asking for directions to a hotel, gave her a generous tip.

There wasn't much research to do, for the history of the house was well known in the town.

The house was built in the middle of what would later become a cotton plantation, by a French man named Abel Baker, in 1867. Mr. Baker brought his family, his much younger wife Claudette and his nine-year old son Jerome, to their new home after it was finished and soon after he started buying slaves to work at the plantation. It seemed he was a good boss, who kept his workers happy. The plantation prospered quickly and soon he was a very wealthy man. But it seemed things didn't go as well at home. Mr. Baker was known for is indiscreet adventures around town, and his wife knew about it. Sam had found about a known incident where Baker had been arrested for hitting his wife after a particularly bad fight. He had powerful friends, so he didn't get in much trouble, and got out of jail the next day. Apparently this became a regular thing, Baker became a violent man, it seemed his money and power made him certain he would not go to jail. Things went on like this until one day Baker suddenly disappeared. The police searched everywhere for him, but no one had any information that could help them find him.

Claudette got married again pretty soon, and the town's gossip was that the man she had married had been her lover before her husband disappeared. People said she had gotten him to kill her husband and after Baker was gone she had taken over the plantation and waited a few months to marry him.

Now, here's where the story got interesting, not 6 months after Baker's disappearance, the happy couple began hearing strange noises in the house. The slaves would tell Claudette that the animals got scared without reason and, soon after, the crops began to die. The plantation decayed fast, and a year after getting married again, Claudette was broke. She had to sell everything she had, and soon all that was left was the house. She would have sold the house too, but didn't get the chance, because one night after fighting with her new husband about their financial problems, he went insane and strangled her. He had also killed Claudette's son, the police found the boy in the same room where they found his mother. It seemed like an accident though, because he was unharmed except for a wound on the back of his head where he had hit it against a desk. The police guessed Claudette had been strangled in the bed. The boy came from behind his stepfather to help her and was shoved off by the man, he fell backwards and hit the back of his head on the solid wooden desk, dying instantly. The man's body was found next to Claudette's, he had shot himself.

It seemed like the same thing happened every time someone moved to the house. The father, or the man of the house, went insane and killed his family. There had been another family who lived there, about 70 years later. A man named Jenkins had the house restored before moving in with his family. The fist night there, he went crazy and killed his wife and his children, a girl and two boys.

The police found the bodies in the bed of the couple's room, laid carefully one next to the other, in an almost loving way. Jenkins was outside the house, lying in the ground surrounded by broken glass, under the bedroom window. His neck was broken.

The house was uninhabited for another 67 years, before it happened again, when the young couple he had read about in the newspaper moved in and the rest he already knew.

From the look of it, Sam guessed Claudette and her lover had killed Baker and then hid him somewhere in the house. It had taken some time for the spirit to gather his strength, and then get his revenge. He assumed Jerome's death was and accident, but after that, the spirit recreated the night of the murder when someone moved into the house, and that's why the next time, Jenkins had killed his children too.

Dean walked out of the bathroom as Sam finished reading the information they had gotten from the police, pretending to be writers doing research on the old plantations of Louisiana. Sam turned to his brother.

"Well, I'm almost certain we are dealing with a spirit. I think the bones are hidden in the house. We are going to have to look for them there tomorrow." Dean cursed to himself. He had hoped it would be an easy 'go in the middle of the night to the cemetery, dig up the bastard and burn his bones' kind of job. But of course he couldn't be that lucky. Searching the house meant they would probably roam around the place for a good while, giving the spirit plenty of time to notice them. He was sure this job would prove to be a tricky one.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Once inside the house, Dean looked around the huge room before them. He turned around just in time to see his brother turning back and forth the doorknob at the entrance, looking back at him with disapproval written on his face. Dean smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"Aww, come on, you can't pass the opportunity for a dramatic entrance. Where's the fun in just turning the knob and walking in?" He said defensively.

"Not alerting the evil spirits of our presence and being able to leave in one piece after finishing our job here is more my idea of fun." Sam answered in a sarcastic tone, and Dean glared at him before continuing to take in his surroundings.

They were standing a few steps inside the front door, at the bottom of a staircase. The room was huge, and every area of the house seemed connected by it. In the middle of the room, the giant staircase led to the second floor. The handrail went on after the stairs ended and framed a corridor that surrounded the room. The doors to the upstairs bedrooms were visible from the first floor, given there was no separation between the first and second floor in this main area.

On the first floor, to their right, was the kitchen entrance, consisting of just the door frame and no actual door. A little to the back of the room, in the same way as the entrance, was the kitchen's exit. To their left, was the living room, same as the kitchen, entrance and exit with no doors. Across the room from where they stood, behind the stairs, two doors were visible (actual doors), leading to the back rooms of the house, probably service rooms. Sam realized after looking around, that the house was freakily symmetrical. If one were to split the house in half and put a mirror to one of the halves, one would end up with the exact image of the original house.

The next thing that came to Sam's mind was how odd it was that the house looked bigger on the inside than it did from the outside. He wondered if it was an architectural trick that made the spaces look wider, or if it was the solemn look of the house that made him feel smaller.

Deciding they had wasted enough time already, and that the ghost probably knew already that they were there, the boys decided to start looking for Baker's body.

They had discussed earlier the most efficient way to search the house would be from the basement up. The newspaper articles and police records said the police had searched the house for any clues of what had happened to the man, and had come out empty handed. Dean said the body was most likely embedded into a wall. There was the possibility that the body was buried out in the yard, but he doubted it because no one had seen anything and at the time Baker had been killed, the plantation was filled with people who lived there. Someone would have noticed a body being buried outside the house. So that meant Baker was hidden somewhere inside the house where the police hadn't been able to find him. Dean looked around the gigantic room they were in and sighed. Why didn't violent murders ever take place in little huts where hiding spaces were limited?

Well, they wouldn't find the body sitting here complaining.

Dean walked into the kitchen, followed closely by Sam. He didn't think they would find anything there, but they had to take the unlikely places out of the list first before looking closely around the more likely ones.

Going through the kitchen to the back of the house, Dean and Sam entered the dinning room. They took opposite sides of the room and began knocking the walls listening for a hallow spot. They didn't find anything there, so they continued to the next room, leaving the dinning room they were once again in the main room looking at the back of the stairs. As they went through the door on their right, Sam noticed Dean picking his right ear.

"What is it?" Sam asked his brother, and thought he heard him mutter something like 'bug' in an annoyed tone before he entered the next room. Sam watched the door frame for a second before following him in.

They were in some sort of storage room now, there were a few new looking boxes on the ground, they probably belonged to the Chadwick's. Sam began moving a pile to make room to move when suddenly Dean shoved another pile harshly with his foot. The box on the top fell down, and something made of glass shattered inside it. Sam bolted to a standing position and stared, confused, at his brother.

"What are you doing, man? I thought we were being quiet to try and not disturb the ghost." Sam said, obviously surprised at Dean's recklessness.

Dean didn't even turn to face Sam, and just started knocking the wall where the pile of boxes had been. "It would take a very stupid ghost to not notice us knocking around the house Sam, " 'Sam?'. "It probably knows we are here since we parked outside. Lets just hurry and torch this bitch." Dean suddenly turned around and without another word left the room. Sam saw him picking his ear again as he left.

Sam caught up to his brothers side, looking carefully at him before asking again. "What's wrong with your ear?"

"Nothing." Dean answered louder than intended, surprising both his brother and himself with his little outburst. He sighed and added in a much calmer voice. "I'm just hearing this buzzing sound, it feels like a mosquito is inside my ear."

"Maybe there really is a bug inside your ear, lets speed up a little and we'll look at it back at the hotel when we are done here" Sam answered. And with a final couple of knocks on the corner of the room, he went out the door into the living room.

"Yeah." Dean responded with a pensive look on his face while still picking his ear. He followed Sam out of the room.

The living room was the only nice looking room in the house. It appeared to have been decorated and cleaned recently. There were a few open boxes lying in a corner of the room. There was a big display cabinet in the center of the wall on the left, the one with the back to the main room, each of the door less frames granting access to the room to each side of the cabinet. It had some fancy china set carefully inside, and a few photos in frames laid at the top.

As Dean entered the room, he saw Sam looking at the photos, a sad smile on his face. He got to his brother's side and looked at them too. There were some pictures of the couple's wedding and a few of them standing in front of a little Christmas tree in a little apartment. They weren't your usual perfect looking couple with the handsome, muscular husband and the hot blond wife. He was short, and seemed he was beginning to loose his hair, and she was kind of chubby. But they looked very happy and obviously in love, like most recently married couples did.

Dean could almost see Sam's mind at work, imagining the Chadwicks moving into the house, talking and laughing while carrying boxes. The wife would glance around imagining what she would do with all the rooms, seeing each space already restored and decorated in her mind. Then turning to look out the window at a couple of imaginary children running behind a football.

Dean knew that was what Sam hoped for one day, and could see that he sympathized with what had happened to the Chadwicks. He suddenly felt angry at Sam for always bringing himself down with regrets of things he couldn't change, but immediately shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind. He nudged his brother's shoulder with his own, and motioned with his head to go upstairs.

The search went pretty much the same in every room. The bedrooms had no furniture, so they were easy to search. Dean had began wondering if maybe Baker's body wasn't in the house. He really wasn't looking forward to digging the endless yard around the house. He heard his brother saying something.

"What?" He asked. Sam looked up and he himself asked. "What?"

"You didn't say anything?" Dean asked in a skeptical tone studying Sam's face to find any sign that he was messing with him. "Just now?" Sam asked, and Dean found no joking there. "Yeah" Dean felt his temper raising, it really wasn't the time for jokes. "No" Sam answered looking concerned. "What did you hear?" Dean licked his lips and looked away. "Nothing" He said and walked into the final room of the house.

The main bedroom was empty except for a big wardrobe in a corner and a very old looking bed. The bed had short legs, and stood about 5 inches over the wooden floor. The sheets were stained with dried blood, and next to the bed, on the floor was a silhouette drawn with white chalk over another blood stain. Sam remembered Chadwick had stabbed his wife and then he had slit his own throat. He felt sorry for them.

The brothers checked the room meticulously as they had searched the other rooms in the house, but found nothing there either.

Dean sighed irritated and smacked his hand hard over his ear . He felt the buzzing stop for a few moments, but soon it started again.

"Well, that was a fucking waste of time" Said Dean turning to look at Sam like it was his fault. He was pissed. Sam felt the accusing glare and shot back. "What? I didn't hide the body. You want to blame someone blame the black widow, not me." Dean scoffed and turned away. He knew his brother was right, but he was still angry. He wondered for a moment what was really making him so mad, but only had a moment to consider it, before seeing a small hole in one of the boards under the bed. It was barely noticeable.

"Sam." he called without looking up. "What?" Sam spat, obviously still offended by Dean's attitude. But then he noticed his brother had found something and approached him curiously. "What did you find?" He asked, trying to glance over his brother's shoulder at his discovery. "This boards aren't original" Dean said, poking inside the hole on the floor with his index finger. "They are a different type of wood than the rest of the room" He said, and motioned with his free hand for Sam to get closer.

Sam crouched next to him and gave an examining look at the boards, confirming Dean's suspicions. "Let's go get something to lift the floor." He said and Dean nodded.

* * *

Author's note: Yeah, the search was boring, but the next chapter has more action. 


	4. Chapter 4

As they made it down the stairs and to the front door, Dean felt the buzzing get worse, and he heard a voice again, this time he knew it wasn't Sam talking. He was about to tell something to his brother but decided he would just ignore it and hurry up in getting this over with.

They made it to the car and Dean opened the trunk. Sam rummaged through the many guns and tools until he found an axe, he turned around and showed it to Dean and then walked back to the house. Before closing the trunk, Dean saw a familiar silver gun, he looked at it for a few moments, lost in some sort of trance. He was bolted out of it by his brother calling his name. Dean hesitated for a moment before taking it and tucking it in the back of his jeans. He closed the trunk quickly and ran after Sam, entering the house.

They went up the stairs and entered the main bedroom again. Between the two of them they pushed the extremely heavy bed aside, Sam understood in that moment why the old bed was still there. Dean walked a few steps back without saying anything and leaned against the wardrobe, crossing his arms over his chest. Sam stared at him for a moment and, taking the hint, turned back to the floor beneath him and started breaking it while muttering something angrily under his breath.

Dean stood there watching, all the while the buzzing in his ear increasing in volume. He could almost make out the words from the voice he had been hearing. He was getting anxious watching Sam make a hole in the floor, but didn't really know why. Dean's mood got worse and worse with every board that came out, and he was glaring at his brother's back watching him work when Sam suddenly stopped, turned around and said something. "What?" Dean asked, damn, he couldn't make out his brothers words over all the voices. It wasn't until then that he realized he had been listening to a chorus of voices speaking while his brother broke open the floor. "I said: 'Bingo'." Sam repeated, giving him a strange look. Dean pushed himself off the wardrobe, walked to the hole in the floor and looked in.

Baker's body lied inside a wooden box, Sam had broken and taken the lid off, Baker's skull had the left side crushed. Sam looked at the body with a pitiful look. He could understand why Claudette had killed him. The man beat her on a regular basis and she couldn't go to the police. But to bury him under her bed?. That was just sick. He didn't feel so bad for her anymore.

Dean was staring at Baker's body with a strange fascination, but was snapped out of his trance when Sam suddenly started pouring lighter fluid over the body.

Dean could hear the voices clearly now. '_Kill him._'. He stood silently, listening carefully. '_He hates you. He left. Tried to kill you._'. Dean felt his anger raise, but did nothing, he just kept listening. '_Doesn't want to be here. He thinks you're pathetic. He'll leave again. Kill him._' Dean shook his head sharply, and covered his ears with his hands. Sam was done with the lighter fluid and was now pouring salt over the body. He put down the salt bottle and patted his pockets looking for a lighter. "No!" Dean yelled. Sam turned around quickly giving his brother a questioning look. Dean was holding his head in his hands and had his eyes shut tightly.

"Dean?" Sam asked, concern evident in his voice. "Dean, what's wrong?" He took a few steps towards his brother, but stopped when Dean raised his hand, gesturing for him to stay away. "Dean, say something, what's going on?" Sam tried again.

"Run, Sammy..." Dean said in a low growl, it looked like it had taken a lot to get the words out. Sam just stared at him, confused. "What?" Sam asked, starting to worry a little.

'_Kill him. Hates you. He Left. Wants to kill you. Kill him._' The whispers came in rapid successions of words, Dean could make each one out clearly, but couldn't pay attention to a particular one for they were spoken too fast. They seemed to be dancing around him, mocking him, the voices came from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, it was making him dizzy. They were annoying, but he wasn't really concerned about them. What really scared him was the darkness he could feel creeping into his head. This foreign evil thoughts that mixed with his own and made him feel confused and very, very angry. He knew they would soon overcome his mind.

Sam suddenly realized what was going on and felt stupid for not noticing earlier. "I SAID RUN!" Sam was startled by his brother's shout and knew he had to act quickly. He ran next to Dean, who was now kneeling on the floor holding his head with his eyes closed, and crouched in front of him. Sam started patting Dean's jacket, frenetically looking for the lighter, and found it in his front pocket. He reached his hand out to take it, but suddenly Dean let go of his head and caught Sam's wrist with his left hand in an iron grip. Sam looked up, his mouth open in protest, but closed it when he saw his brother's face.

Dean stared back at him, his face empty of any emotion. Dean started getting up, bringing Sam to his feet too, he hadn't let go of his wrist. They held each others gaze for a few seconds, before Dean spoke.

"How hard is it to fucking run if I say 'run' ?" He didn't wait for an answer before speaking again. "Does it physically hurt if you do as I say?" Dean sounded mad now, it seemed like he was trying to keep from raising his voice. Sam was staring at him wide eyed. "DOES IT?" Dean yelled and shoved Sam back with the same hand with which he held his wrist, suddenly letting him go. Sam wasn't expecting it and stumbled backwards, landing on his ass in the floor, at the foot of the bed.

Dean approached him, walking slowly, he had his hands behind his head and was looking at the ceiling in an exasperated manner. "But then again, you never could follow orders." He said, still not looking at him. "Maybe it really was physically impossible for you to do as you were said." Sam just stared quietly at his brother while he kept talking. "Maybe that's why I had to save your ass every time we told you to stay in the car and you disobeyed." Dean finally looked down at Sam, and stopped talking, apparently caught in a memory of some time Sam had ignored an order and Dean had to save him from getting killed because of it. Sam took the moment to try and calm his brother down.

"Dean, there's something in this house, it's messing with your head. That's why we came here, remember?" He spoke slowly watching Dean's every move cautiously. Dean gave him an outraged look and answered him in an annoyed tone. "I hate it when you talk to me like I'm a fucking retard. Of course I remember." He talked with his teeth clenched, shaking slightly. Dean was angrier than Sam had ever seen him before, he had to think of something quick.

"But you always were the smartest one. So you need to speak slow and clear so I'll understand, right?" Dean continued, Sam didn't answer. "RIGHT?" Dean yelled and Sam jumped where he sat. "You were the smart one, that's why you got to go to college, have a normal life, right? And I had to stay." Dean stopped for a moment, taking some shaky breaths before continuing. " I could have had a life too, you know? You think I'm a loser because I stayed. You think I stayed because I was dad's good little soldier?. That I stayed to make him see I was the good son?" Dean turned to look at Sam and stopped, waiting for an answer. Sam was still quiet. This was their eternal fight, and he didn't know what to say to calm his brother down. There was no correct answer.

Seeing Sam at a loss for words, Dean went on. "I stayed because I loved him! I stayed because I know what's hiding in the dark, and unlike you, I couldn't just choose to ignore it." His face was now a mixture of anger and sadness. "But you could." He scoffed. Sam noticed Dean was holding a gun. He couldn't tell when had Dean gotten a gun, but it was there now. "You could just pretend that there was nothing to be afraid of. And you went and got your apple pie life." He stopped for a moment and added with a cruel smirk. "How did that work out?" Sam's eyes widened. Evil spirit or not, Jessica was off limits. He began to get up. "Oh, come on Sammy, you know you can't take me." Dean said with an amused look. Sam stopped. He knew his brother was right. Dean always won their sparring sessions when they were kids. He had thought that maybe Dean's advantage was gone now that they were both adults and in even conditions. But the shape shifter had made him realize that Dean was still stronger. He could attribute his losing to having been tied up and beaten before the fight. But then the incident at the asylum gave no room for doubts. Dean had been the one lying on the floor after being shot in the chest with rock salt, Sam standing over him, pointing a gun to his face, and Dean had beaten him anyway. Sam knew he had no chance against a totally unharmed Dean holding a gun.

Dean saw Sam's defeat in his eyes and laughed. "Aww." He pouted mockingly. "At least, try." He said. His face suddenly serious before speaking again. "Where's the fun in killing you if you wont even fight back?" Dean's tone was death serious and Sam knew he wasn't just bluffing. He thought of the previous owners of the house, and suddenly saw their mistake. They had both been cautious of Sam being possessed, being he was the spirit magnet, as Dean called him. But Baker's spirit didn't take just any random inhabitant of the house. He went for the stronger one, the father, the husband... the big brother. What would have been the point in taking one of the Jenkins kids? Baker wanted to be sure everyone in the house died.

Sam was brought back from his thoughts by the click of the gun. He looked up to see Dean was pointing it to him. Sam realized at that moment that after killing him, Dean would kill himself, like the others had done. Without even thinking it, Sam flung his legs out, kicking both Dean's feet from under him simultaneously. Dean was caught off guard and fell forward, hitting his forehead above his right eye on the end of the bed. Sam stood up quickly and hesitated for a moment between getting the lighter and burning Baker's body or running out the door. His decision was made for him, as Dean began getting up not a second later. There was a string of blood running from a small gash where he hit the foot of the bed. Sam ran out of the room, getting down the stairs as fast as he could. He wasn't sure but he thought he heard his brother crack his neck from the bedroom.

Dean had gotten the habit of cracking his neck as a menacing gesture after seeing it in a movie as a teenager. Sam would laugh at him at first, whenever he did it, but when he had seen it actually work, he had stopped. Either chasing a Wendigo through the woods, or right before a fight in a bar, Dean cracked his neck and Sam could always see a glint of fear pass his enemies eyes.

He felt that same fear just now. Dean was going to hunt him down, like they did any supernatural thing, and kill him. He couldn't remember a single time in his life where he had been afraid of his brother, being really afraid that Dean would hurt him.

Sam stopped before the front door for a moment. What did he exactly thing he could do?. The car was closed, Dean had the keys. So getting any sort of weapon from the trunk was out of the question. Even if he managed to somehow get to the car and pop the trunk open before Dean caught up to him and shot him, what was he going to do?. Get a shotgun and kill Dean?. He didn't want to hurt his brother. The only way to help Dean, was to finish the job and burn Baker's bones. The only problem was, Dean had the lighter.

All this thoughts crossed Sam's mind in a split second before he turned to his left and entered the kitchen. He crouched between the counter and the kitchen's exit, his back against the wall, panting heavily twice, before he remembered his training, and held his breath. He remembered his first impression on the size of the house and decided he had been wrong. This house was way too small. He wished there were more places to hide.

Dean walked calmly down the stairs.

"Saaaaaaamy." Dean called in a singing manner."Come on, we're a little old for hide and seek, don't you think?." He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and began looking around. Sam didn't move a muscle, except for his heart that was trying to pound out of his chest. He stood there, holding his breath, listening carefully for his brothers moves.

Suddenly there was a loud crashing sound, and Dean yelled. "Oh god! SAAM!". Sam caught himself in the middle of getting up, his first reflex was to run to his brothers aid, he cursed to himself and crouched back down. Dean was playing with his mind. After a few seconds Dean spoke again.

"Oh, so you won't come and help me?." He laughed. "What if I had fallen down the stairs and broken my neck?". He asked. Sam heard Dean's voice nearing him. He couldn't hear his steps. They both knew how to walk silently. After a few seconds, Sam turned to see Dean was already inside the kitchen, looking around, he still hadn't seen him. Sam got up and ran across the room to a door leading out of the house. Dean shot and failed twice. A bullet hitting the top of the counter, and the other hitting on the wall next to the door as Sam ran out.

Sam looked around for a place to hide, but the house was in the middle of what had been the cotton fields. The land was dry and eroded, and went in all directions for about a mile. Except for the occasional tree, there was nowhere to hide. He turned left and ran around the house. He still didn't know what he was going to do. As he surrounded the house, he noticed Dean had missed him twice. He wondered if somewhere deep down, Dean was fighting to gain control, or if he was just playing with him like cats did sometimes with lizards, catching them and letting them go, before finally eating them. He really hoped it was the first.

Sam stopped before a door leading to a room on the back of the house that they hadn't seen when they where searching for the bones. There was a large rectangular window along the outer wall of the room, the glass too dusty and stained to clearly see inside. He opened the door and closed it quietly behind him. He locked the door and crouched next to it, under the window. The light from the full moon entered through the window, passing just above him and landing on the floor in front of him. He looked around to what seemed to be a carpenter's room. There was a long table against the wall in front of him, with some tools on top. In the wall above the table, there were a few shelves with some cans and some more tools. On the right corner of the room, next to the table, was a big wood burning stove. The old stove sat in four short legs, about two inches above the floor. There was some more stuff around the messy room, but those were the main things in there.

Sam was suddenly startled from his inspection of the room by Dean's shadow on the floor. From the shadow the full moon provided, Sam could make out his brother's silhouette. Dean was standing on the window, his hands on the sides of his face, trying to cover the moon from reflecting on the filthy glass, that apparently kept him from seeing into the room.

Sam almost jumped when the doorknob next to him jiggled violently. The jiggling stopped and he saw Dean's shadow on the window again, trying to see through the glass. The shadow suddenly stepped back from the window and Sam let out a sigh of relief. He knew he needed a plan. He couldn't keep running away from Dean. He needed that lighter. He was going to have to ambush Dean somehow, take him by surprise and get the lighter. Sam was trying to think of how he was going to do that when suddenly he heard the sound of the window breaking. He felt some shards of glass land on top of his head and looked up to see Dean's hand holding the gun, using the cannon to remove the remaining pieces of glass that stuck to the frame of the window. Dean's hand began searching for the doorknob and Sam saw his chance. Dean still hadn't seen him.

In a single, swift motion, Sam grabbed Dean's wrist with his left hand, and the underpart of his upper arm with his right. Sam pulled with all of his strength, making Dean pass through the window, Sam stood up at the same time. He flipped Dean's body over his back, taking advantage of his height, and threw his brother against the opposite wall of the room.

Dean crashed hard against the shelves on the wall, before falling painfully over the work table with the tools in it. The old and rotten table broke down, and lifted a cloud of dust and mold. Pieces of glass fell all around them. It had all happened in a split second.

Sam covered his face with his arm and held his breath while the cloud of mold and dust dissipated. He stood there taking in the mess around him when he heard Dean cough and moan slightly. He ran to Dean's side and saw the gun lying next to him on the ground. He kicked it under the old wood burning stove where it would be out of reach, he couldn't really be sure Dean wouldn't take it from him if he grabbed it.

Dean sat up, his back to Sam, looking around a little stunned. Sam threw himself over him and grabbed him in a head lock. Wrapping his right arm around his neck, and holding that arm with the left, putting his left hand behind Dean's head. Sam began counting in his head. 1, 2, 3 . . .

Dean's stunned state lasted only a moment more before he suddenly stood up, lifting himself and Sam's weight effortlessly. Dean lifted his arms behind his head, grabbing Sam's shirt and tried flipping him over himself, like Sam had done to him just some seconds ago, but Sam was a step ahead and had wrapped his legs around Dean's waist. 25, 26, 27 . . .

After failing to flip Sam over and getting free. Dean turned around, and ran backwards, slamming Sam against the wall. Sam got the wind knocked out of him, but didn't let go, he couldn't afford to lose. 42, 43, 44 . . .

Dean was beginning to feel dizzy, Sam was cutting his air supply with his arm wrapped around his neck. He began pounding his elbows back into Sam's ribs. Sam groaned at the pain he felt on his sides, but still didn't let go. He only had to hold on a little more. He could do this.

78, 79, 80 . . . Dean felt his strength leaving him. He stumbled to his knees, still hitting his brother with his elbows, but not half as hard. His vision began to close up, leaving him with the sensation of seeing through a tunnel. 96, 97, 99 . . . Finally, Dean passed out.

Sam held on a few seconds more, to make sure Dean wasn't faking before he let go. He turned Dean on his back and, after confirming that he was breathing, picked him up and flung him over his shoulder. He cursed quietly and muttered something about 'a diet' before heading out of the room. He walked quickly around the house to the car, he didn't have much more time. He set Dean down carefully and searched his pockets for the car keys and the lighter. He opened the trunk and took out a rope, closed the trunk and turned to his brother who just lied there breathing softly. He turned Dean on his stomach, and tied his hands behind his back. He then tied his hands to his ankles. Even without the use of his hands, Dean was dangerous. Dean didn't even stir. Sam made sure the ties were tight and that his brother wouldn't be able to get free. He looked down at him for a second and smirked. He would tease him later about kicking his ass and tyeing him like a yearling calf in a rodeo.

He turned to the house and took a couple deep breaths. Baker's spirit would be pissed. He walked to the front door and peeked inside. He took the lighter in his hand and sprinted across the main room to the stairs.

The moment he entered the house, he felt Baker's presence. It wasn't the subtle whispers Dean had heard any more. As he ran up the stairs, different objects around the room began flying towards him. The spirit knew what he was up to. Sam covered his head and ducked as much as he could while running to cover himself from the flying picture frames that flew from the walls. He lifted up his head and was greeted with the sight of a lamp flying through the corridor leading to the bedroom, towards him. Sam ducked his head, barely dodging the lamp right before it hit him square in the face, and kept running. He got to the room and stood next to the hole he had done on the ground. He lit up the lighter and was about to throw it in when the heavy wardrobe in the corner moved across the room and pinned him against the wall. Sam's cry was choked as the wardrobe slammed him to the wall and the air was pushed painfully out of his lungs. The wardrobe covered his view from the hole in the floor and Baker's body. Sam pushed the wardrobe with all of his strength but it didn't move, not even an inch.

Sam's mind was racing. The wardrobe was pressing him harder and harder against the wall. He would be crushed if he didn't do something quick. Taking a hasty decision, Sam mentally calculated the location of the hole in the floor, lit the lighter again and taking his arm out between the wall and the wardrobe threw the lighter.

He heard the lighter fall down in the general direction he thought Baker's body was. Sam closed his eyes waiting for something to happen. For a moment, nothing did, but after a few seconds the wardrobe stopped moving. He opened his eyes, and saw a faint yellow, flickering glow on the wall. He pushed the wardrobe again and was surprised it wasn't has heavy as it looked. He got out from between the wall and the wardrobe and looked at Baker's body burning. He watched for a moment longer before turning around to leave the house. So much for an easy, haunted house job.

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Author's note: So? Was I right? It was a little more exciting than the last chapter right? Please let me hear what you think. 


	5. Chapter 5

Dean was awake and trying to squirm out of his ties when Sam came out. He stopped when he saw his brother approaching him and a look of relief crossed his face. Sam walked to his brother and crouched in front of him, giving him a distrusting look. Dean lifted his head as much as he could. "It's me. Psycho Dean is gone." He said. Sam looked at him for another moment before he moved to his side to untie him. He didn't say a word. Dean stood up after he was free and quickly turned to face Sam.

"Are you OK?" He asked, concern evident in his voice. "Yeah, I'm OK." Sam answered, suddenly feeling very tired. Dean looked ashamed, guilt written on his expression, his head down. Sam noticed and smiled inwardly. He remembered how he had tried to apologize for the things he had said and done at the asylum, and Dean wouldn't let him. He understood perfectly that, though they had been Dean's thoughts that had been expressed, it wasn't Dean saying them. He understood because he remembered his own thoughts been blurted out from his mouth at the asylum and he being able to do nothing to stop it.

So he turned to look at Dean again, who seemed to be about to say something, and smirked. He quickly put a straight face when Dean looked up and in an emotionless voice, Sam said. "I'm driving."

Dean stared at him for a moment trying to make out whether his brother was angry, disappointed or hurt. He wanted to say something to make things better, but he didn't know what. Also, he hadn't let Sam apologize after what had happened at the asylum, he didn't have the right to ask Sam to forgive him. So he simply nodded and walked around the car to the passengers side.

Sam got into the drivers seat and glanced sideways to his brother. Dean had his head down, looking like a whipped puppy. Sam kept a grin from forming on his face. He was going to let Dean kick himself for a couple of days before letting him know he wasn't mad and he understood.

"You know I'd never forgive myself if I'd hurt you, right Sammy? Dean asked suddenly, still not looking up. Sam turned to look at him, thought for a moment and then cursed to himself. He sighed, damn, he was such a softy.

Sam punched Dean lightly on the arm. "Come on, man. Look at it this way. Now we're even for the asylum thing." Dean lifted his head and looked at his brother. Sam grinned, Dean looked at him,confused for a moment, and then smiled. "That, we are." Dean said and let out a little laugh. Things would be fine between them.

They both turned to look at the house again, their faces serious as they suddenly realized what a close call it had been. Sam started the car and they drove away.

"So, how does it feel getting your ass kicked by your little brother?" Sam said. Looking ahead into the road, not hiding the satisfied smile on his face. Dean turned to look at him and sighed. "You're not going to let me forget this any time soon, are you?." He asked.

"What do you think?" Sam asked as his smile broadened. Dean sighed and looked out the passenger window. This was going to be one damn long drive.

The End.

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Author's note: Well, I hope you liked it. I had a lot of fun writing this story. My deepest grattitude to anyone who reads or reviews this story. 


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